


Snakes and squiggles

by crayyyonn



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 05:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12184185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayyyonn/pseuds/crayyyonn
Summary: It's a bird, it's a plane, it's... a doodle ofwhaton Momoshiro's wrist?





	Snakes and squiggles

“It’s an ‘s’,” Inui says.

Kikumaru makes a noise of contemptuous disagreement. “It’s a squiggle.”

Fuji and Echizen both lean in then for a better look. After a beat, Fuji says, “Ah, I see.”

Echizen nods as sagely as a twelve year old can. “It’s sperm.”

Behind them, Ooishi splutters, chokes. “Echizen! You shouldn’t—you can’t—”

Fuji chuckles, the sound melodic. “Sperm don’t curve like that, Echizen.”

“I bet buchou would agree with me,” Echizen counters, because Tezuka is in Europe and cannot argue.

“Saa.”

The enigmatic sound is drowned out by an expulsion of breath. “You’re all wrong,” Momoshiro announces. “It’s not an ‘s’, or a squiggle, or sperm, _ew_ Echizen.”

Inui’s eyes glint behind his glasses. “Oh?” Grabbing Momoshiro’s arm, he brings it closer to his eyes and so it’s in the light. He nods. “Oh, I see. This is good data.”

Next to him, Kawamura peers at it too, then shrugs, dumbfounded. “What is it, Momo?”

“It’s,” Momoshiro takes a deep breath, the way he always does before beginning a class presentation, even though it doesn’t help with his fear of public speaking. “It’s a snake!”

There is a protracted instant during which everyone freezes at Momoshiro’s pronouncement. Then the moment shatters. Kikumaru _hoi?_ s, Ooishi’s _Momo!_ is exasperated, Kawamura just sighs. Fuji’s smile doesn’t shift a bit.

“Cheh.” Echizen tugs at his cap. “This is a tacky way to show love, even for you, Momo-senpai.”

Drawing himself up to his full height, Momoshiro says, “It’s not love! It’s mockery, mock-e-ry, Echizen! Who in their right mind would love a snake!”

Inui nods again, eager. “Excellent. I’m getting a lot of new, useful data today.”

“That’s great, isn’t it, Inui,” Fuji says, smile still in place.

“Fuji!” comes Ooishi’s exasperated yell.

“Pshuuu,” Kaidou hisses as he trudges away from where he’d been standing, just shy of the clubhouse entrance. Training on his own is definitely the wiser course of action today.

 

-

 

Later, after twenty sets of sit ups and push ups, two hundred swings of a heavy towel in running water, and a moderately paced jog from one end of the city to the other, Kaidou heads home, tennis bag strapped to his shoulder.

When he passes by the street tennis court, he’s unsurprised to see Momoshiro by the gates, sucking on a popsicle. He kicks away from the wall when he sees Kaidou, falls into step with him. They turn in the direction of Kaidou’s house.

“Where’s Kamio?” Kaidou asks, because there’s only one reason for Momoshiro to be at the courts. Besides, he stinks of fresh sweat and the smug satisfaction of a game well played.

“Left, had a date with An.”

Momoshiro’s sucking is obnoxious. Kaidou’s glare doesn’t deter him in the least. He doesn’t know why he bothers.

“Anyway, you should have been here,” Momoshiro continues. “Tachibana turned purple when An flat out told him not to follow them again, like last time.” His cackle grates.

He switches the popsicle to his left hand. Kaidou frowns.

“Oi, Momoshiro,” he starts. Momoshiro’s wide eyed look is infuriating. His jaw tightens. “What’s that on your wrist?”

Momoshiro doesn’t answer immediately, instead slurping on his loudly, cheeks hollowed and lips pursed. Kaidou can feel the beginnings of a headache coming on.

“This? I was just doodling in class. It’s nothing. Why, what did you think it is?”

The smirk he follows that impressive display of nonchalance speaks volumes and Kaidou, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, widens his stride to leave Momoshiro behind. But that idiot’s legs are longer than they need to be, letting him catch up easily. Kaidou hisses in annoyance, walking faster.

Of course, that’s when a hand clutches his, sticky fingers tangling with his _clean_ ones, pulling him to a stop and into an alley. He doesn’t even have to look to see the shit-eating grin he knows is on Momoshiro’s face, but it’s for naught anyway because they’re barely out of sight when a mouth lands on his.

Kaidou really means to protest, really he does, because Momoshiro’s lips are disgustingly sticky too, but they’re also sweet and a little bit cool from the popsicle, although Momoshiro's tongue is as warm as ever.

And even though the tennis-calloused hand in his starts to sweat halfway through the walk to his home, Kaidou supposes he can let it go, just this once. After all, he’s learned a long time ago to pick his battles when it comes to Momoshiro.


End file.
